Mother of Mercy
by Texas Kate
Summary: With Leo gone, the brothers are forced to change their habits, to adapt to their new life. Family tension makes their eldest's absence so much harder to bear; especially with the interference of a hostile organization, and a young mother that just wants her life put back together. '07verse
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Thanks for checking me out, guys! I hope you find this story worth your time, and good, bad, or ugly, I ask you to tell me what you think. Kindness and constructive criticism are very much welcome/needed. Enjoy!**_

 _ **PS: This will not be a Turtle/OC romance story. The only pairing is strictly OC/OC.**_

* * *

 **Chapter One: Of Men and Beasts**

She let out a shaky sigh, her breath crystallized and suspended in the air before her. It clouded her features. His eyes did not stray from hers, but the way they narrowed and hardened in the pale light told him all he needed to know about the scowl that fell across her milky face. The baby was still crying, it's shrill wails muffled as its tiny round face was buried in her breast. He could feel her fear- it spanned further than the few feet of thin air that separated them. He took a half step back, half concealing himself from the sharp light of the streetlamp above.  
She was frozen, still recovering from the horrors of the night- the creature before her bore an unreadable expression, the contours of its face so shockingly alien. But it's eyes... The way it moved... It's eyes were a luminous amber, still burning with bloodlust as it shifted its massive form back toward the darkness of the alley. The babe quieted, hiccuping into her shirt, her little cheeks no doubt red and raw from tears and the biting cold.

"S-stop..." Her voice was almost lost, the breath sucked out of her lungs by the wicked wind.

It paused, eyes flashing, what could only be described as a surly look crossing the reptilian beak and furrowed eye ridge.

"Thank you..." She murmured, taking a step closer. She extended a gloved hand when it tried to retreat further, "Please! Please, don't leave."

She heard the thugs groaning to life behind her, and cuddled the child closer into the folds of her coat. The beast seemed to hesitate, turned its head toward the darkened alley as though plotting its escape.

"Y' shouldn't be out here so late and alone," the voice was deep and rich- distinctly male. "Get goin' home. Get that baby outta the cold."

She took a step. "I live a long ways from here..."

He backed away, but his hulking shadow was still outlined against the perfect blackness of his backdrop. "Just go. I'll make sure you get there safe."

The woman needed no second bidding, and Raphael took a deep breath. ' _She didn't scream,'_ he groused sardonically. Her eyes had been intense, full of fear, full of intention. He wasn't sure what she had planned when the four brutes had blocked her path. Her posture had immediately changed, the child smothered against her body, her shoulders hunched over it, and her teeth shining in the artificial light. But he had intervened. The men were down, and defender and defendee were left to contemplate one another's existence.

He should have disappeared.

For a little lady, she moved fast, and he kept an easy, gliding pace to follow her. Her eyes kept wandering, trying to find him in the gloom. The streets in this part of town were empty. The baby had hiccuped itself to sleep, he supposed, for it was quiet and still in her arms.

"My name's Kate." Was it appropriate to make conversation with the reptile man?

"I don't need to know your name."

She fell silent. The distance seemed greater in the dark than it actually was, and before long her hand was on the frosty doorknob of her apartment complex. She didn't look for him, knew it was futile, but tried to reach out and find his presence somewhere in the blackness. He was still out there somewhere, watching with his burning eyes.

"Thank you," she called to the darkness. "If you ever..." He wouldn't accept her invitation. "I owe you one."

Raphael watched her slide into the warm building, feeling the numbness in his toes on the cold rooftop. He buried his hands in the pockets of his trencher, saw a light on the third floor come on, and caught a glimpse of the woman's silhouette as she put the baby down and drew the thick curtains over the window.

"Find yourself a girlfriend, Raph?"

He took a sideways glance as his brother emerged from the shadows. Donatello was bone weary, his brow pinched in a mix of worry and bemusement. Raph snorted.

"Not hardly. Married blondes aren't quite my type, bro. Did you see the metal on her finger? I could have four gold teeth."

It was an exaggeration.

"We'll need to keep an eye on her," Don muttered, noting the location of her apartment, "she's likely going to tell her husband, and that'll be less than fantastic."

Kate Bourne closed and latched the heavy apartment door quickly, rested her back against it for a brief moment to calm her wildly beating heart. Her knees trembled. She stood up again, little Helena deadweight in her tired arms. She laid infant on the couch for a moment to pull the curtains to.  
She hadn't meant to be out so late, especially with the girl. They were late leaving the park, had been seriously enticed by the puppies in a store window, and service at the restaurant was slow... The girl still had to be changed into her pajamas and put to bed- she would be cranky in the morning. With a mother's efficiency she floated about the tiny living room, gathering toys, blankets, dishes from their lonely lunch. A pang tore at her heart. John wouldn't be home for another week. Dishes in the sink, toys in a basket, baby in her arms- to be changed and put to bed, she felt the wet diaper, _changed_ and put to bed.

"Little blond curls, little bunny footsies," she sang in a soft voice, the disturbed infant crinkling her chubby features in a frown. "Dreaming of a race car daddy, a little southern mommy... Won't you sleep at peace tonight?"

Helena was tucked in, warm in the little corner of the bedroom. The dishes needed attention, as with the kitchen table, the floors needed mopping. She pushed the attack from her mind, trying to forget the hungry looks and the reek of booze. She scrubbed the dishes angrily. _'Helpless, helpless, Lord knows what they'd have done...'_

The kitchen was spotless. Kate eased herself into the couch, her back aching, her stomach churning. If she had to stand again in the next couple minutes she would give out. Her breathing deepened, she buried her face in her knees, trembled with anxiety. She'd seen the flash of a knife, had heard the lewd snarls. _'The reptile man_...' She had forgotten... She rushed to the window and tore the curtains aside. There was nothing, just the empty rooftops. She trudged back to the couch. His skin had shone emerald green in the lamplight, his hands large and heavy. His body was bulky, but hidden by a long trench coat. His feet were bare.

He had saved her.

She couldn't fight it anymore, the tears burst, and she sobbed breathlessly. The loneliness, the stress, the memory of the men, the shock of the beast... She sobbed and hiccuped, tears and snot running down her face. Prayer after silent prayer passed through her mind, her head shaking and body trembling.

The phone rang.

She grabbed the vibrating object, stared with bleary eyes at the unfamiliar number on the screen. She swallowed. A long distance number.

"H-hello?"

 _"Hey sweetie,"_ a wave of relief, she breathed a muffled sob. _"Oh God, what's wrong? Is it Lena? Kate... What's going on?"_

The voice had gone from exhausted to alert in a heartbeat.

"I want you home," she sobbed. "I just want you home..."

They both knew she was leaving something crucial out. He had long since learned that the withheld information would not come easy.

 _"Easy, easy... I'll be back Friday. It'll be alright, Kate. I'm coming home, I'll be fine. Don't cry, Kate..."_

It was three in the morning in London. Why was he up?

 _"I miss you, beautiful,"_ his voice... Oh bless his heart, he sounded as torn as she did. _"I just wanted to tell you I loved you- I'd hoped you were up... Give Lena a kiss for me,"_ he was stuttering horribly, a childhood habit that never relinquished its hold. _"I love you so much..."_

There was no stuttering there. She wiped her tears, the light catching the gold band on her finger.

"I love you too..." A sniffle on the other end, disguised as a cough. Kate smiled. "Get to bed, Love. Be safe tomorrow."

He was hesitant, but was coaxed into hanging up. Kate shut out every light, and in the darkness traced her way to their bedroom. Helena slept soundly in her crib. The young mother pulled aside the blankets, still in her day clothes- minus the jacket and scarf and gloves and hat and boots (they all rested on the couch, and she loathed the thought of putting them away tonight)- and felt for the small, familiar bundle. The gloves were his first pair. He wore them racing go karts, a dashing little kindergartener. The leather of the palms was stiff, cracking with age. He'd given them to her when they were still high school sweethearts... He an ambitious young racer... She a sweet girl with a wild heart...

She drifted to sleep with his scent in her nose- the soft, warm, musky, odor... Reptilian beasts and dirty men did a dangerous tango through her dreams... Racing cars sped by on a child's playset... The night was long and restless.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Thanks so much for the follows, favorites, and reviews, y'all! This chapter is a bit... eh, I guess, but it'll pick up soon. I update as I find the time and as fancy strikes me, and it just so happens I find a bit more time with every review ;)**_

 _ **Enjoy you guys, and stay beautiful. (SpongeBob Reference ftw!)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Lives Not Quite Complete**

"Splinter was worried about you, Raph! How many times do I have to tell you that it's not _my_ idea to go out looking for you every night?! That if it were up to me, I'd let you come back of your own accord? Lord knows you're more than capable of looking out for yourself."

They'd been at it for two hours. Michelangelo grimaced as his brothers' voices rose in volume and anger. He was glad his sensei had accepted an invitation to April's for tea, and that he alone had to bear the trouble of the spat. Raphael wasn't happy about Donatello's nightly interference in his 'runs'. Donatello wasn't happy that he suddenly found himself the ramrod of family matters.

Mike wasn't happy that, as he set the table in contemplative silence, he fetched down four plates instead of five.

The noise abruptly ceased, like the sudden silence in the aftermath of an explosion. The lair doors slid open and closed, and there was the sound of a heavy groan. Mike put away one plate, then, remembering that Splinter wasn't due back for several hours, put his place away as well. Hearing the door to Donnie's lab slam shut, looking down at the worn old table set for two, Mike wondered if he should even cook dinner at all.

Raphael found himself flying over the rooftops, the icy wind cutting through his uncovered body... He could have at least stopped to grab a coat... He pushed harder, his blood singing in his veins. He kicked off one building after another, guided by an unseen hand. Miles of city passed on beneath his feet. There was a little community park, a pet store, book store, coffee shop... He lost track of how many sirens he heard off of distant streets, how many shady people skirted the shadows below. He just pressed on, driven by anger, frustration, resentment...

For once in his life, he didn't want to fight. He just wanted to run, to fly over the cold concrete of the alleyways, to be suspended in a blurry dream that moved at the speed of sound while reality trudged on below. Maybe this is what Leo felt like...

Raph slowed, his lungs burning and body numb, and again cursed his haste. The fiery terrapin breathed harshly, the cold air stinging, too thin to do him any good. Over his own panting, or perhaps through it, he heard the faint tap of shoes on a roof. His eyes snapped up, meeting those of his observer. It was too late to run.

* * *

Three days had passed since the 'incident.' Three days of nervous haste and mountains of work to drown her from the memories. Little Helena had all but forgotten, but still sensed her mother's worry. The baby fussed ceaselessly, much to the annoyance of Miss Dee, the daycare woman. Kate forced her life to continue normally. Each day she woke up at six, dressed, cleaned, and prepared for work; breakfast would be made, the baby fed and clothed against the blustery November weather, and mother and daughter would set out on the world. Miss Dee took Helena at seven, the train caught her at eight to spirit her away to the magnificently ugly office by 8:45.  
Henry Cochran saw little by way of a negative affect on his best young manager- in fact, for the past three days she had been working harder than ever. She fluttered through the building on the wings of a bird, ruthlessly efficient as she checked numbers, names, contracts. Her face was all business, quietly made up, her expression stoic. Just now she was in his office, staring out the forty-seventh story window and grinding down hard on an uppity colleague that had crossed one line too many.

"Mr. Henderson, I won't stand for it," her slow, southern drawl was clipped and precise, cold as the wintry clouds reflected in her eyes. "You've extended the bounds of your contract, trod on the toes of our affiliated companies, and humiliated the association. You've got one week to relinquish the marble pedestal you've put yourself on or be thrown off and that throne shattered in your face."

Her voice had scarcely risen, but instead had grown hard and brittle, and she did not waste her breath on a goodbye before ending the call. She turned to Mr Cochran, her hooded eyes filled with contempt and her face stony.

"Miss Kate," the man grinned, leaning against his desk with his legs crossed at the ankle and his arms wrapped around himself, scrunching up his fine Armani suit.

"Mrs. Bourne," she cut him off coldly. A minute frown pulled at his smirk.

"Mrs. Bourne," he corrected. "You are invaluable to this corporation. I thank you for your... Dedication."

She hated his slow, ponderous speech pattern. It was forced, an attempt to come across as someone from her side of the Mason Dixon. He regarded her with almost hungry sapphire eyes, his blond hair slicked stylishly back. She didn't trust his smoothness, hated those prim, manicured hands he used to tap away at his elbows as he stared her down.

"Thank you, Mr Cochran," she smiled a pretty little fake smile, and moved to excuse herself from the room.

"Kate," she gritted her teeth and turned back to him- he had moved swiftly, and stared now out the window at the horizon. "I'd like to treat you to dinner- in honor of your coming promotion."

 _Promotion?_ She frowned, settling her hands on her hips as he turned back to face her. She didn't falter from his gaze.

"I am not 'Kate' to you, Mr Cochran. I am Mrs Bourne. If we haven't professionalism as a strong foundation for the internal relations of this company, then it has been built on shaky ground. I am afraid, sir, that I will not be 'treated to dinner.' A have a child to tend, dinner to make, and an apartment to clean, and a husband whose homecoming I am looking forward to."

Her heels clicked down the hall, the only sound that could be heard. Cochran grinned as he watched her stride away. He had bold things planned for that little woman. He sat back down behind his desk, idly flitting through papers as he whistled breathlessly. He had an appointment at noon... Lunch with the emissary of the faltering Saki Industries... A meeting at four... His wallet grew fatter with each passing hour, and he had some lovely little servants to attend to the brunt of his work.

Mr Cochran settled back in his chair. It was good to be King.

Six o'clock saw Kate boarding the train with a solemnity born of exhaustion. She took leave of her shoes, stuffing them impatiently in her purse and disregarding the grime and grit that scuffed her pantyhose. She limped to Miss Dee's, her feet swollen and head throbbing, and claimed her infant. Miss Dee chattered about 'what an angel' little Lena had been, though the bags under the old woman's eyes and her almost unkempt look contradicted her words.  
Helena cried incessantly all the way home, earning them some annoyed and sympathetic glances from others that thronged the streets. The six month old didn't quiet until they arrived at the small apartment. Her mother held her in leaden arms, needing the comfort as much as the babe, as she stirred a pot of chicken soup on the stove.

"Daddy'll be home in just a couple days, baby girl," she cooed.

"Dawy, Dawy, Dawy," the girl echoed, pounding tiny fists on Kate's shoulders.

"Yes! Dawy, Dawy," Kate smiled.

She switched off the stove, pushed the pot carefully back to cool momentarily, and eased her child down into her little play pen at the juncture of the kitchen and living room. The baby girl delighted herself with a rubber car, gnawing carefully on it and babbling in her own obscure language. Mommy, meanwhile, dug a jar of baby food out of the fridge- she'll need more soon... And set about preparing the tiny little hi-chair, the music of her own humming and her baby's babbling filling her mind.

* * *

Raphael panted heavily, knees trembling and threatening to give out. No longer could he hear the hollow footsteps, just the erratic thumping of his own heart. His blood leaked lazily from the pair of neat holes, sliding down his plastron, his arms, his legs, and warming the cold flesh. His vision blurred, his mind going sluggish as the adrenaline from his retreat faded away and was replaced with the burning pain and heavy soreness of his wounds. His shell cell was shattered, unusable, but still trackable from the lair. Shards of glass from its screen imbedded his leg from where the phone exploded against his thigh.  
He looked around, gritting his teeth from the pain, his breaths whistling shrill and harshly from clenched teeth and quivering lips. He couldn't make it to the lair. April's was on the other end of town- he had made a solid point to distance himself during his run. The blood kept coming, from his shoulder, from his hip, from the scratches in his leg. The night was still young... He could find a safe house somewhere... He could wait... That damnable geekazoid brother of his would be out looking for him before long... But he was losing it. His head spun, his limbs going weak, and he shook himself to keep from fainting. He needed another option.

 _"If you ever..."_

No.

 _"I owe you one..."_

No. No, no, no. But she hadn't been afraid. She hadn't been hostile. He read her like an open book, and there wasn't a trace of malice in the offer...

No.

His mind was growing foggier.

No.

If he bled any more he'd pass out or leave a bright trail.

 _No._

Raphael looked around. He was in her neighborhood. That building to the right- he could even see her lights on in the apartment.

Damn.


End file.
